High Heels Mysteries Boxed Set (Books 1-5)

by Gemma Halliday

  I entered the warehouse, keeping close to the walls and hoping I blended into the background as I slunk toward the soundstage. I picked my way over wires and ropes duct taped to the ground, thinking inconspicuous thoughts as I passed the Craft services area. Luckily, no one tried to stop me. Though, I did notice a couple of PA’s looking at my shoes as I scuttled past. I think one even snickered a, “Hot stuff,” as I walked by. Okay, now I was starting to get a little self-conscious. Yes, they clash. I get it!

  I was almost to the soundstage when a familiar voice hailed me from the wings.

  “Hey, Maddie.”

  I had a mini heart attack, spinning around so fast I feared whiplash. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw who it was.

  “Hi, Ricky.”

  “What are you doing here? That big cop said you weren’t allowed on the set any more.”

  I cringed. Oh yeah, handcuffs were definitely in my future.

  “I’m just here to see Dana. Know where she is?”

  “Sure. She’s blocking out the next scene. Ashley and Chad are having make-up sex today. Apparently he doesn’t care who the baby’s daddy is after all.”

  The wonders of television.

  “Thanks,” I said, turning to go.

  “Hey, did that woman ever find you?” Ricky called.

  I paused. “What woman?”

  “There was this woman looking for you earlier. She didn’t leave her name but she had, like, really long black hair. And she seemed a little high strung.”

  Oh. Crap.

  Isabel.

  "She was here?” I squeaked out, sounding way too like Minnie Mouse for my liking. I had no idea how she got onto the lot but knowing she was anywhere in the vicinity of my person made my skin instantly break out in goosebumps.

  Ricky nodded. “Yeah. Hey, you okay? You look kinda pale.”

  I gulped down a dry lump in my throat. "Yeah, sure, fine. When was she here? What did she say?”

  Ricky scrunched up his face like he was thinking really hard. “Um, it was earlier this morning, right after I got in. I told her I wasn’t sure you’d be here, but she just said she’d hang around and ‘catch up to you.’”

  Oh boy.

  I mentally added one more name to the list of people that I so did not want to run into today. In fact, I moved her name right up to the tippy top of the list. I debated calling Ramirez and telling him that Isabel was lurking somewhere on studio property. But that would mean telling him I was lurking on studio property, and me in the back of his squad car wasn't going to help Dana any.

  So, instead, I mumbled, “Thanks,” to Ricky and made a beeline for the soundstage.

  I spotted Dana right away. She was lying in Ashley Culver’s bed, dressed in a peach colored tube top and tight briefs that almost exactly matched her skin tone. Unless you squinted, it looked like she was in the buff. Which, it seemed, was the idea, as Stienman directed her though a series of seductive poses, all the while shouting about the white balance and back lighting.

  Long extensions had been added to her hair, so that Ashley's curly blonde locks now fell over Dana's shoulders. Her make-up was done to perfectly match Mia’s skin tone and I think she was even wearing green contacts. The dread I’d been feeling all morning kicked up a notch. Even I might have mistaken Dana for Mia.

  Then again, it was perfect for what I was planning.

  I waited behind an unused camera crane while Stienman blocked out the rest of the scene, Dana beaming and making kissy faces at the camera the entire time. Never mind that the cameras weren't on, Dana was milking her fifteen minutes for all it was worth.

  Finally Stienman signaled one of the PA’s in a headset to go get Mia for the real deal.

  Dana slipped on a pair of flip-flops and a robe before stepping off the soundstage. I grabbed her arm almost immediately, dragging her into the shadows.

  “What the-” she started.

  I did an instant shooshing motion, holding an index finger up to my lips.

  “Maddie!” she whispered. “What are you doing here?” She scrunched up her nose. "And what's with the hair?" she asked, fingering my newly brown tresses.

  "It's a disguise."

  "Totally good idea," she said, nodding sagely. "'Cause if Ramirez catches you here, you’re toast.”

  “You’ve seen him?” There was Minnie Mouse again.

  Dana nodded. “Yeah, and I’m pretty sure he used the words, 'arrest' and 'blonde' in the same sentence. He gave me the total third degree about where you were. I told him that you were at your mom's and I think he's on his way over there now."

  I cringed as an image of Ramirez interrogating Mom popped into my head. Though, I wasn't sure which one I felt more sorry for.

  On the upside, having Ramirez out of the way for a couple of hours made things that much easier.

  "Listen, I've got a plan," I said, dragging Dana behind the crane as a pair of grips walked by. I quickly filled her in on the idea that had been cooking in the back of my head all morning. And, yes, I'll admit it was just a wee bit on the “harebrained” side, but that didn't mean it wouldn’t work.

  All I needed to implement it was one more person.

  Mia.

  * * *

  I realized that Mia was the key to all of this and the only person on the set that I hadn’t talked to yet. And, unfortunately, I needed her help if we were going to pull this off. I know Mia wasn’t exactly known around the set as the helpful type, but I had a feeling that if anyone was eager to get rid of Mr. Poisoned Pen, it was her.

  Dana and I watched from the wings while Mia and Ricky wiggled under the sheets of Ashley's bed, pausing every few minutes for Mia to complain about Ricky’s hands skimming inappropriate places or the camera not zooming in on her good side. Finally Stienman was satisfied (or fed up with Mia) and yelled, "Scene,” breaking for lunch. Poor Ricky looked infinitely relieved.

  Dana and I gave Mia a three-count head start to her trailer, before slipping out the back.

  I was happy to see Ramirez was still nowhere in sight (Thank you, Mom!) as we tippy toed between the corrugated metal trailers, passing Ricky's, Blake's, and the one marked “Talent” before coming to Mia's. Dana rapped two knuckles on the metal door.

  “Yes?” came the sharp reply from inside.

  “Wardrobe,” I called.

  “Oh for God’s sakes,” I heard her respond, her voice growing louder as she moved toward the door. “We just finished the last scene.” The door popped open and Mia stood glaring at me. She was wrapped up in a red, silk robe that contrasted sharply with her pale skin. Her lips were painted a red to match, as if lipstick was the first thing she’d thought of putting on when she return to her trailer. Her feet were bare, and her enviable blonde curls framed a face that was etched in a deep scowl.

  “Who are you?” she demanded. “I have my own wardrobe person, you know?”

  “Right. Um, listen, could we come in for just a minute?”

  She put both hands on her slim hips narrowing her eyes at me. “Why?”

  I glanced nervously over my shoulder. I wasn’t sure how long Mom could keep Ramirez occupied, but I had a feeling even she had her limits. “I need to talk to you about your stalker.”

  Mia blew a short puff of air through her ruby red lips. “What, you trying to sell a story to the tabloids? Think you can get a quote from me or something?”

  “No, no. Nothing like that. I…” I paused, not sure how to voice my idea without sounding like a bad Scooby Doo episode.

  But Dana jumped right in. “She has a plan to catch the killer.”

  Gee, thanks, Shaggy.

  Mia arched one slim, professionally shaped eyebrow at me. “So you’re a wardrobe assistant and a detective?”

  “Look, can I please just come in for a minute to talk?”

  I could tell she still had her doubts, but luckily her curiosity won out over skepticism. She stepped aside, silently allowing us entry. We navigated the two metal steps and quickly shut th
e door behind us.

  “So?” Mia sank down into one of her velvet covered sofas, arms draped casually over the back in a practiced pose straight out of a Marlene Dietrich movie. “What do you want from me?”

  I gingerly perched on the sofa opposite, glancing out the brocade covered windows to make sure the coast was still clear. Just a couple of grips smoking cigarettes. So far, no Bad Cop.

  So far.

  “Maddie has been helping the police investigate the murders,” Dana started.

  “Really?” Mia eye's roved my person, taking in the leather and clashing heels. “You’re working with the police?”

  “Uh, well, sort of.” I shot Dana a look. “Loosely.”

  “We’ve already questioned tons of suspects and narrowed it down to someone on the set,” Dana continued.

  “I’m not surprised,” Mia snorted. “They’re all jealous of me. Any one of them could want me out of the picture.”

  “So you think the killer really is after you?” I asked.

  “Of course! Veronika was just a stand-in. Who’d bother with her?”

  I paused, wondering if I should mention Veronika's extracurricular activities on the set. But I figured at this point, what did I have to lose?

  “We think Veronika may have had a little side business going on. Blackmail.”

  Mia raised both eyebrows and gasped out loud. “Blackmail? Who on earth was she blackmailing?”

  I shrugged. “We’re not sure.”

  “But we’ll find out,” Dana piped up beside me. “Maddie’s a totally good detective.”

  Mia turned to me. “Oh?”

  “Um, well…”

  “Don’t be so modest.” Dana chucked me on the shoulder. “She’s helped the police lots of times before. And we always get our man. Right?”

  Mia's lips quirked up, seeming truly amused at this. “Just like the Mounties, huh?”

  I cleared my throat. “Anyway, we have a small favor to ask. We think we might be able to find the identity of your stalker if we catch him in the act, so to speak.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “In the act of trying to harm you,” Dana supplied.

  “You want to use me as bait?” Mia’s voice rose to a level of shrill just slightly below dog whistle.

  “No, no,” I reassured her. “He’ll only think it’s you.”

  “I’m the bait,” Dana said proudly.

  Mia gave her a slow up and down and made a face. “You seriously think someone would mistake you for me?”

  “They mistook Veronika for you,” I reminded her.

  She sucked in her cheeks, thinking this over. “What do you need me to do?”

  I felt my stomach lurch. Maybe at the relief of getting her cooperation (no small hurdle, as the last week had taught me), or maybe at the thought that we were actually going to go through with this Lucy and Ethel scheme.

  “All we need you to do is stay away from your trailer tonight.”

  Mia frowned. “Why?”

  “I’ll pretend I’m you,” Dana chimed in, “and after we wrap, go into the trailer, seemingly alone. Only Maddie will be watching from the bushes, ready to call for help as soon as the killer appears. But, if he sees two of us, well, he'll know I'm a fake. So we need you to stay out of sight.”

  “Can you do that?” I asked.

  Mia nodded, slowly. “All right. You really think this will work?” she asked, watching me carefully under her sculpted brows.

  I took a deep breath. “I hope so.”

  * * *

  The rest of the day passed in slow motion as I hid out in the "Talent" trailer, drinking coffee, playing solitaire on the tiny laptop computer, and feeling the bundle of nerves in my stomach escalate higher than the price tag on a pair of Blahnik originals. I diligently ignored the piling messages on my voicemail from Felix, all of them promising bodily harm if anything happened to his Neon and none of them using language I could repeat in polite company. But they paled in comparison to the escalating threats on my machine from Ramirez. He went from a peeved, "Where the hell are you?" last night to this afternoon's growling, "Goddammit, Maddie call me or I swear to God I'm going to…" and then it kind of trailed off into Spanish curse words. I almost felt bad. I almost gave in and dialed his number. Almost. If he had any inkling I was within ten feet of the set, he'd probably cuff me to a radiator somewhere and throw away the key.

  So, instead, I kept a close eye on the windows, watching for any sign of Bad Cop or his buddies in blue. None. Though my heart leapt into my throat when I saw a swish of black hair disappear into Blake's trailer. I think I forgot to breathe for two full minutes until Kylie skipped out, wearing the black wig for her scene as Tina Rey's evil twin sister from Baltimore.

  By the time the sky was beginning to turn a dusky blue, I was nursing my fifth cup of coffee and my nerves were strung tighter than Felix's wallet.

  "Hey," Dana said, popping her head in the door.

  I yelped, spilling coffee on my wrist. "Geeze, you scared me."

  "Oops, sorry. Next time I'll knock."

  I wiped at the coffee with a napkin. "You finished?"

  Dana nodded, stifling a yawn. "Yep, we're done blocking. Ricky and Mia are shooting their last scene, then we're a wrap."

  And Operation Bait was a go. I felt those nerves do another flip and sipped at my drink.

  Dana stretched and yawned into her hand. "Man, I am beat. Any more of that left?" she asked gesturing to my cup.

  "I'll make a new pot. Stand-in work more tiring than you thought?" I asked, slipping a filter into the Mr. Coffee in the tiny kitchenette.

  Dana nodded. "It's exhausting. Plus I had kind of a late night last night."

  "At SA?"

  "What?"

  "Sexaholics Anonymous? That's where you were last night, right?"

  "Oh. Uh, yeah. Right."

  I paused, scoop of French Roast hovering over the basket. "You were at SA last night, right?"

  Dana shifted on the sofa and did a nervous laugh. "Where else would I be?"

  "Oh, no. Don't tell me, that extra with the cute butt? The PA with the van? Please tell me it's not a grip?"

  "No! Geeze, none of the above. I'm celibate, remember?"

  I narrowed my eyes at her. "Just promise me one thing. Promise me that this new stand-in job of yours is not the product of you sleeping over at the shifty eyed AD's house."

  "Maddie, please!" For the first time in her life, I think I saw Dana blush.

  Yikes. This was more serious than I'd thought.

  I was about to further lecture my best friend on just what Therapist Max would have to say about all this, when the trailer door burst open again.

  I jumped, spilling coffee grinds onto the counter.

  Maybe I should switch to decaf.

  "Oh, sorry, I didn't know anyone was in here," Deveroux said, stepping into the trailer. Then he took one look at my pink heels and blushed like a schoolgirl.

  “Oh, you’re wearing them again.”

  I stepped around the counter, obscuring his view. “Long story. I didn’t have time to change.”

  Deveroux sat down on the sofa beside Dana. “Maddie, I want you to know that I am so, so sorry.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “For?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know how it happened. Usually those websites are so discrete. I don’t know how this clip got out.”

  “Clip?” My internal radar pricked up. "What clip?"

  He looked down toward my feet again. “You know, from yesterday. I have no idea how it got out.”

  “Wait-" I held up a hand, crossing the room to face him. "What do you mean, 'got out?'”

  Dana looked down at my shoes. “Ohmigod! I didn’t put it together before. It’s you!”

  “What’s me?” Okay, now I was starting to worry.

  “The YouTube clip!” Dana yelled, bouncing up and down. “It’s all over the internet, this girl doing a foot strip tease. Ohmigod,
you're like famous!”

  Mental forehead smack.

  Dana popped up from the sofa and grabbed the laptop, closing my solitaire game. After a couple of clicks, she opened a browser window and typed in the address of the internet video sharing site. I watched in horror as she clicked a clip entitled "High Heels Seduction" and the soundtrack to a Debbie Does Dallas-esque film played over a scene in a pink, fluffy bedroom. A scene featuring a pair of pink, leather ankle strap, rhinestone buckled, high heels. On my feet!

  “Oh. My. God. I’m going to kill her!”

  “Who?” Dana asked.

  “Jasmine! She must have put that video up on the internet." I was supremely thankful she'd edited out my face, though the idea of internet pervs getting their rocks off to my pink pumps still squicked me out beyond belief. "How many people have viewed this?” I asked, frantically trying to see if there was a delete button anywhere. No such luck.

  Deveroux (who was turning a little flushed as he watched the screen) looked at the counter in the corner. “Only three hundred thousand.”

  “Only?” I smacked my forehead with the heel of my palm. No wonder I’d been getting shoe snickers all day. If this was some sort of retribution for getting Jasmine's windows shot out, we were so even after this.

  “Great. I have sunk to a whole new low.”

  Deveroux made a low groaning sound.

  "Stop watching that!" I flipped the laptop screen shut. Then tucked my feet back under me.

  The trailer door opened again (this time I was too pissed off to jump) and a PA stuck his head in.

  "Steinman just called a wrap. We're done for the day," he said, before ducking back out as his headset crackled to life.

  Dana and I looked at each other, images of strangling Porn Star Barbie fading as she voiced my thoughts.

  “I think that’s my cue."

  “You sure you want to do this?” I asked, that bundle of nerves returning full force.

  “Of course!” She grinned. “Wish me luck, Mads.”

  "Good luck, Ethel.”